


In Perfect Balance

by ClydeThistles



Series: It Takes Three (Tissaia/Margarita/Yennefer) [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Shameless Smut, That desk, Thought Transference, Threesome - F/F/F, some feelings though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeThistles/pseuds/ClydeThistles
Summary: Sequel to 'With Emeralds & Amethysts'Tissaia takes back some control, Yennefer and Rita have no complaints.
Relationships: Margarita Laux-Antille/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg/Tissaia de Vries
Series: It Takes Three (Tissaia/Margarita/Yennefer) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900702
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	In Perfect Balance

Tissaia catches her breath and takes in the scene around her. The fire is blazing a little too hot for comfort after the surge of energy she released, and several of the lamps have guttered out, the curtains and some papers on her desk still fluttering even though there are no windows open. It has been quite some time since she last relinquished all hold on her Chaos, and she is surprised (and very relieved) that no extensive damage is apparent. However, whilst her study seems to have escaped relatively unscathed, the girls draped around and over her are another matter entirely. Despite Tissaia being the one brought to a mind-shattering orgasm, the two of them are boneless and languid, dreamy expressions on their faces. She tries to rouse them,

“Did I inadvertently cast an enchantment? What on earth’s the matter with you?”

Rita only mumbles something incomprehensible and burrows into Tissaia’s neck, wrapping her arms tighter round her. Yennefer manages to raise her head from Tissaia’s thigh, her hand tracing lazy curlicues down a pale calf,

“You try being in the room when you lose control. Whatever that was, you’ve got to teach me how to do it too.”

Tissaia looks confused, “I didn’t do anything.”

Yennefer chuckles, “Oh I beg to differ.” But when she realises Tissaia is not being coy, she manoeuvres herself so she is resting more comfortably with her head in her lap and speaks, “It’s hard to explain but we could feel what you felt. It’s like you were in my head projecting everything. And gods, your Chaos is beautiful when you let it out! It was like standing outside just before a thunderstorm hits, feeling the static in the air.”

Rita stirs herself and interjects, “Like sinking into a hot bath when you’ve had a long journey. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Tissaia looks mortified, “You’re not telling me I manipulated you into… peaking with some sort of thought transference?”

Yennefer chuckles again, “You make it sound much nastier than it felt. And, before you spontaneously combust, we didn’t _peak,_ whatever the hell that’s a euphuism for. It was like…” she wafts her hand vaguely in the air “…an emotional orgasm.”

Rita scoffs, “Tch! An emotional orgasm? Shut up, Yenna!” She tilts Tissaia’s chin up with a forefinger, “Your Chaos is incredibly powerful, it stands to reason it can overwhelm those who are attuned to it. You shared your pleasure, your affection, your joy, with us. There is nothing to be ashamed of, it was beautiful.”

Tissaia is still a little discomfited by whatever _it_ was but her natural inquisitiveness is piqued. And she can’t deny there is a smug satisfaction in seeing the two of them so dazed. So, she decides to take full advantage of their compliance (Yennefer’s in particular) and investigate this unusual magical occurrence (all in the name of research, of course). She sits up and settles herself on her knees, scooping up a protesting Yennefer from her lap as she does so. Yennefer’s grumbling at being moved fades quickly as Tissaia frames her face and kisses her languidly, licking under her upper lip, nipping at the bottom one. Tissaia can taste herself and she chases it round Yennefer’s mouth. She becomes aware of Rita who is still entwined round her grinding against the small of her back. And perhaps it is her pride prickling at being used in such a way or perhaps some of Yennefer’s brazenness has seeped into her. Either way, Tissaia pulls away from Yennefer’s mouth and disentangles herself from Rita. Then stands and clasps her hands at her waist as though she were still wearing one of her stiff gowns and not stark naked. She fixes Rita with a resolute stare,

“Get up. And sit on the edge of my desk.” Then rounds on Yennefer, “And you, kneel over there.”

With a flick of her hand she levitates some cushions to where she wants Yennefer to kneel as she’s not feeling vindictive enough to leave her on the bare flagstones. The women move too slowly for her liking and she barks at them,

“Faster!”

Tissaia hides a smile as they scurry to their places, no girl ever stops being her student, not really. It’s shadowy over by her desk away from the fire so she ripples her fingers and more lanterns flare. She would not normally waste energy on frivolous tasks like moving cushions and lighting candles but every time she expends Chaos it does something to the younger mages. They seem overly sensitive to it, intimately attuned to her. Perhaps it is a remnant of whatever had passed between the three of them earlier on. She walks towards them, her measured tread and stony countenance belying the thrill that is beginning to course through her veins. Tissaia stands in front of Rita, perched expectantly on the edge of the desk with her hands clasped in front of her and longing in her eyes. The rectoress turns to Yennefer who is kneeling a little to the side,

“You are going to watch. If you try to touch yourself, I will punish you.”

Yennefer gulps but nods, squeezing her hands under her thighs to keep them from roaming. Tissaia turns back to Rita and steps in between her legs, hooking her thighs up round her waist, her ankles locking above Tissaia’s bottom.

“Lie back.”

Rita does as she is told, sinking back onto the desk, trembling with anticipation. Before she touches her though, Tissaia raises her hands to her own head and starts to unpin the bun that has survived their previous passion. Both younger women make noises in the back of their throats and Tissaia smirks, she is well aware of the fantasises centred around her hair that most students seem to harbour at one point or another. As the pins are extracted and the braid unwound, her long dark hair waterfalls down her back, eliciting wistful sighs from her lovers. Tissaia bends over Rita to kiss her, her hair curtaining round them and she makes sure to gather it round to one side so as not to obstruct Yennefer’s view. Rita writhes beneath her, eager for more and Tissaia skims a hand down between their hips to stroke at her. Freckled hands come up to clutch at her shoulders but Tissaia instructs,

“Hands above your head, holding the desk. Do not move them.”

Rita whines and gasps, canting her hips into Tissaia’s hands. Tissaia smirks again. Between the hair and the desk and the dominance she is probably fulfilling far too many fantasies all at once. She decides to push even further,

“How often have you imagined this? How many times did you picture me doing this to you?”

Rita whimpers, “Tissaia, please…”

“Show me.”

Tissaia reaches out with her mind, seeking the edges of Rita’s and eases into her thoughts. She insists,

_Show me. I want to see you._

And Rita obeys, letting her mind fill with memories, flashes of her straining against her own hand with Tissaia’s name on her lips, writhing underneath a dark-haired woman her eyes half-closed to pretend it’s Tissaia, squeezing her thighs together at a Brotherhood meeting watching Tissaia across the table.

_So many times, too many. Always you, you I wanted._

Rita’s thoughts are halting, disjointed as she tries to string words together through the fog of lust and love that clouds her mind. Faced with this vulnerability and sincerity, Tissaia slows her movements, leans down to kiss Rita tenderly, echoing her words from earlier,

_I am yours, you are mine._

Rita sobs against her mouth and arches her back, her hands shaking with the effort of not reaching up to grab Tissaia.

_More, please, I need-_

Her train of thought breaks off as Tissaia crooks her fingers and circles a thumb round Rita’s clit, her mouth sliding down to capture a nipple and suck. Tissaia is not usually a messy lover, there is an elegance, a system to her passion. But as Rita’s breast fills her mouth and a wetness between her thighs makes Tissaia’s hand slippery, she finds herself rocking against the younger mage haphazardly, her fingers and tongue moving erratically rather than in the careful rhythm she had planned. Rita does not seem to mind however, her moans deepening as Tissaia becomes more fervent, more frantic.

A groan to her right reminds Tissaia that Yennefer has been watching, not just the pleasure unfolding in front of her but their thoughts, the images of Rita in the throes of passion that had been shared with her also. To her pleasant surprise, Tissaia sees Yennefer is still sat firmly on her hands, panting but not attempting to bring herself relief. Curious, she reaches out into Yennefer’s mind,

_And you? What do you imagine?_

Yennefer resists for a moment but shudders as Tissaia strokes her thoughts with her own,

_Please. Show me that beautiful, chaotic mind of yours._

Tissaia raises her eyebrows at the images she is given. She had long ago accepted that being an authority figure to teenage girls, girls often lonely and hungry for approval, meant she became the subject of fantasies. She ignores it when they accidentally project their desires, distances herself from those in danger of falling too far, teaches them how to ensnare others and use their charms to their advantage and eventually, they grow up, move on, find what they seek elsewhere in more appropriate fashions. And so, she had thought nothing in Yennefer’s mind would surprise her, she has seen it all before. But she should have known better. This is Yennefer, after all. Her desk features just as prominently in Yennefer’s thoughts as they do in Rita’s, but Yennefer does not have herself stretched out across it at Tissaia’s mercy. No, it is Tissaia bent over it with Yennefer behind her, a fierce intensity on her face as she dominates her.

_Do I shock you, Rectoress?_

_If anyone was going to have the audacity to imagine such things it would be you, piglet._

Yennefer’s eyes darken at the name and Tissaia feels the flash of irritation across their linked thoughts. It still needles her then, interesting. Tissaia turns from Yennefer and sinks back down over Rita, resuming her tender touches, sucking little marks over her collarbones. As she works, she repositions herself until she is bent at more of an angle, jutting her hips backwards.

_What are you waiting for, piglet? Permission?_

Yennefer’s breath hitches but she stands and strides over, clamping her hands firmly on Tissaia’s hips and bending to trail her tongue up her spine. Tissaia shivers and it travels down to the hand stroking Rita who moans in response. Yennefer reaches Tissaia’s neck, winds some of her hair round her hand and husks in her ear,

“Call me that one more time and I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Maybe you should – aah!”

Tissaia’s retort becomes a gasp as Yennefer plunges three fingers into her with neither ceremony nor subtlety. As Yennefer twists her fingers, fluttering them inside her, Tissaia groans and bites down on Rita’s shoulder. Yennefer sets a hard pace, unrelenting, her hips driving her hand and smacking into Tissaia which in turn intensifies the curling of her fingers inside Rita who is a fan of this new addition to the mix if her breathy cries are any indication. Tissaia feels Rita starting to clench round her and murmurs,

“Not yet, wait for me.”

Yennefer takes this as a challenge and flexes her wrist so her thumb can press on the soft rosy stretch of skin in between Tissaia’s cheeks, just below where her fingers are disappearing into wet heat. Tissaia’s eyes roll back and she hisses at the new sensation, her legs starting to tremble.

“What do you call me, Tissaia?”

“Yennefer!”

Yennefer kisses her shoulder in gratitude and asks, unable to keep the vulnerability from her thoughts despite the fact she is yanking on Tissaia’s hair,

_And who are you?_

_I am yours…you are mine._

This time, Tissaia is aware of choosing to reach out and draw both their minds close to her own, of flooding their bond with pleasure and (she might as well admit it) love. It takes all her mental fortitude to focus equally on them both, to hold the three of them together so that each can feel the other two. But Tissaia de Vries was not granted the title Arch-Mage for nothing, and if anyone has the power to sustain this bonding then it is her. Rita’s hands fly down from above her head, one cupping Tissaia’s face and the other reaching for Yennefer’s hand entwined in Tissaia’s hair. Tissaia still moves inside Rita, her free hand coming over her shoulder to grip Yennefer’s wrist. Yennefer releases her hold on Tissaia’s hair to interweave her fingers with Rita’s while their counterparts stroke up into Tissaia. The arch-mage feels herself approaching the cliff-edge and instructs,

_Finish with me, both of you, together._

And Yennefer and Rita do as they’re told, because that is what you do when Tissaia gives you an instruction. This time, all the lanterns go out and several alchemy bottle shatter, Chaos rippling out from the three of them dislodging brick-dust from the thick stone walls. Tissaia does not let it worry her though because she knows she is safe between these two women. The three of them together an unstoppable force, an unbreakable will, a perfect balance.


End file.
